


And by the Groke, Snufkin! You're worthy of love!

by Sonic_Rider



Series: Fly Away Home [2]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Autistic Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Good Parent Joxaren | The Joxter, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Invisible Snusmumriken | Snufkin, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Springdove, fight me, snufmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 04:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18887392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonic_Rider/pseuds/Sonic_Rider
Summary: From the moment he had dropped his goodbye letter in the Moomin’s mailbox, a horrible sinking feeling had settled its way down in the pit of Snufkin’s gut Telling him that perhaps this winter, maybe… he shouldn’t leave.But he left anyway and things went oh so horribly wrong because he did. Hopefully the strange man who rescued him can help him, before his dear moomintroll finds out just exactly how badly he was hurt.





	And by the Groke, Snufkin! You're worthy of love!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this largely for myself. I'm not going to lie. 
> 
> Also this fic will make you cry because I cried like three seperate times while writing it. 
> 
> Have fun owo;;;

From the moment he had dropped his goodbye letter in the Moomin’s mailbox, a horrible sinking feeling had settled its way down in the pit of Snufkin’s gut Telling him that perhaps this winter, maybe… he shouldn’t leave.

Maybe he should just run back to Moomin and attempt to hibernate in his arms. Maybe he should stay with Too-Ticky or just bum it in a cave somewhere close by.

Maybe...He should stay.

But Snufkin, like all Snufkins are, is an incredibly stubborn person, and no amount of ‘bad feelings’ had without concrete proof is going to deter him from partaking in the Snufkin nature of wandering....Or at least, of what he believes the Snufkin nature to be.

It's not like he's actually ever met one other than himself, you know!

But this feeling of regret in the back of his mind and the queasiness in his stomach refused to leave until long after he had crossed the Lonely Mountains.

 

* * *

_His feelings proved true not even four weeks into winter._

* * *

 

Snufkin found himself in a small mining village one december night, trees with lights decorated the paths and children ran around happily, throwing snow in eachothers faces.

It was nice, but it was also… Not.

With every step he took and every purchase he made he could feel eyes drilling holes into the back of his skull, nagging at the part of his mind which wanted nothing more than to be isolated in the forest night. His skin crawled and his stomach turned and every time he stayed in a place for too long, somebody took a step too close towards him. Reaching out and trying to touch him

It was awful.

Unbearable.

He had to get out of here.

His stomach growled.

Right after he grabbed some matches for his cooking fire.

 

-

 

A short while later, he came across a little girl selling matches on the street corner and a pang of empathy rang through his heart.

A memory of aching feet and numb fingers came to mind as he knelt down to speak to the little girl.

“H-Hello,” he says quietly, his voice almost cracking from what he told himself was disuse. “You’re selling matches, correct?”

The girl nods, her pretty brown hair is tangled and matted and his heart aches for her.

“Yes…” She says softly, almost on the edge of tears.

Snufkin swallows down his own.

“I’ll take three boxes.” he says, paying for four instead.

She tries to correct him but he shakes his head. “I’ve been in the same place, dear… consider it a gift and stow it away for yourself instead-”

He leaves before she can do anything else.

He wishes he could do more.  


* * *

  _Its not until hes long gone, that he registers her ears were long and pointed just like his._

* * *

  
Snufkin had no memory of the past few weeks. He remembers a woman, a tall and thin fillyjonk towering over him as he stirred his dinner, setting off his nerves. He remembers her berating his clothing and his weight and his entire lifestyle.

He remembers dropping his bowl and grabbing his bag, ready to run far away and never see her again but-

He remembers her grabbing his arm.

He remembers his panic. His scream.

He remembers being taken.

Hes grateful to his mind for blocking out the rest.  


* * *

_But in the dark of night, he remembers scratching pathetically at the closet door, desperate to escape._

* * *

   
He makes said escape three weeks later, though he wouldn’t really call it one. It was more like… a rescue.

He studied the man he had been following. He was kinda short, just like him, with dark brown hair and a bright red hat that reminded him very much of the green one he currently held cradled to his chest.

_“Stupid, abusive, abrasive, cruel, god damn--”_

Snufkin flinched each time the man cursed, which he had been doing ever since he first saw him, or… The lack of him there was to be seen. He had come in to the orphanage, claiming to need their restroom and expressing a desire to play music for the children in exchange for a night out of the cold. Then, his entire demeanor changed as he had laid his eyes on the invisible child, chained to the wall and the tiny handprints his invisible paws made against the window.

Snufkin and all of his belongings been taken from there within minutes, and he appreciated it as one of the kindest things anybody had ever done for him…

But goodness, he wished for the man to stop cursing so much.

It was scaring him. It was reminding him of things in his past that he would much rather forget.

But…

This man was safe and he was safe as long as he stayed with him, so he didn’t complain...

 

* * *

_Even if he wanted to, it's not like he could_.

* * *

  
 Some nights passed, Snufkin still refused to leave the man’s side. He had learned quite a few things about the man now known as ‘The Joxter,’ and everything learned made him want to stay as close to him as possible.

He was a Mumrik, just like him. A wanderer who could never be held to one place or obligation. He was a musician whose only treasured possession was stringed instrument on his back, and most importantly, he _hated_ all parkeepers with a burning, raging passion.

While there were still plenty of differences between the two, like The Joxter’s penchant for eating the fish and birds he caught raw. The similarities between them were enough to earn Snufkin’s fragile trust and he was content to travel with him as long as he allowed for.

The Joxter spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. “We’ve been walking for a few hours now, you good?”

Snufkin gently tapped the hand he held in his own once, signifying that ‘yes’ he was still alright.

The Joxter chuckled. “You sure?” and after receiving confirmation that yes, Snufkin was sure he was still fine he sighed. “Man...I must be getting old then...i’m beat!”

Snufkin stopped in his tracks, causing The Joxter to stumble as he too was forced to stop. He looked back at Snufkin with a warmth he was completely unused to in his gaze. “Did you stop for me?” He asks.  


* * *

_Of course Snufkin said yes._

* * *

  
They spent several more weeks together, getting to know one another. By this point, Snufkin’s voice had returned, but unfortunately, his paws and face seems to have missed the memo.

He had long told Joxter of how he normally spent the winter and where he returned to each spring; and with a special sort of glee in his eyes The Joxter in turn told him of the Adventures he had with his dear Moomintroll’s father. So now, accompanied by stories of his times on the _Oshun Oxtra,_ they began the long trek back to Moominvalley.

“And Mymble, Oh my sweet Mymble…” The Joxter speaks breathlessly, as if he's floating on the highest of clouds. “While I can never stay with her long, as my desire for freedom is much too prevalent, Each night I get so spend in her arms is a night I will forever cherish…”

The Joxter gently pats him on the shoulder and Snufkin doesn’t pull away like he would on any normal circumstance. Because of course, none of what is happening is a normal circumstance. Under a normal circumstance he’d already be somewhere in the lonely mountains, thinking up the final bars of his fresh spring tune, anticipating the warmth of Moomin’s smile and the slight awkwardness that came from avoiding his hug.

Perhaps this year, though…he’d accept it like he has always desperately wanted to.

The Joxter leans down, matching what would be his eye level and gives him the biggest shit-eating grin he’d ever seen.

“And I assume” The Joxter says, grin getting winder with each passing breath. “That you’ve found somebody in Moomin Valley, who just like my Mymble, you can’t help but return to every spring?”

Snufkin was more than a little thankful of his invisibility at that moment, but unfortunately, he could no longer pull the ‘no speaking’ card.  So instead, he spills the honest truth.

“I have and you full well know I do.”

The Joxter cackles at his brashness, happy to see him act so bold. “So when you see your special _Moomindove--”_

 _“I’ll do nothing.”_ He says, harshly cutting The Joxter off for _daring_ to use the special name he had secretly given to his dear friend.

“Nothing?!” The Joxter sounded absolutely horrified. “But you told me your love for him in such detail! How could you do _nothing!?”_

Snufkin flinched away and The Joxter quickly spat out an apology as Snufkin tried to form the words he wanted to say in response. Finally, he says: “I thought to tell him that I loved him on the first day of spring, I had told him I had something dire to say to him once I returned but…”

He looks down at where his hands should be.

 

“I don’t really think I _can_ now.”

 

He takes a deep breath.

This isn’t the first time he’s turned invisible.

No, he’s turned many times before. In fact he turned so often that he could count each time he was truly completely visible on the paws he couldn’t see.

Snufkin had been alone for longer than he could remember. He was abandoned, found in a basket adrift in the river by a horrible, obsessive Fillyjonk, who dared to call herself a caretaker.

She was abrasive and cruel, with a near hatred of everything that made up a child. And she seemed to have had a particularly deep hatred for him and his wanderer’s blood.

Which, is perhaps why once in another Fillyjonk’s supposed care, he ended up exactly like this.

It was funny, really. But it really, really wasn’t.

He knows full well that Moomin would never hate him. He knows full well that if it were possible, Moomin would grant him every star in the sky. However, fear is never a rational thing and Snufkin is much too scared of his current situation to even dream of going through with his plan.  

Because if Snufkin really does confess like this, he knows that Moomin would accept. Not because he truly held any feelings for him, but because he would think it would bring Snufkin back to sight.

The Joxter sighs as he takes a long swig out of his bottle.

“That's really unfortunate, you know?”

And yes. Snufkin knows that all too well.  


* * *

  _Besides, he knows that any sort of confession would be nothing more than an act of selfishness._

 _Moomin has Snorkmaiden, He could never allow himself to come between their love._  

* * *

  
But Moomin didn’t have Snorkmaiden, Not anymore. On the last day of fall, when Snufkin had told him he’d return with something to confess on the first day of spring. Moomin felt it in his heart that it was time to give his own confession to Snorkmaiden.

She took it well, with all consideration. She’d known for a long time deep in her heart that Moomin’s heart did not belong completely to her. It hurt, of course.... But she accepted the termination of their relationship with only a request to remain as friends, which Moomin happily accepted.

But now, he sat alone in his room, fearful and alone. It was already several weeks into spring and there was still no sign of Snufkin, and with each passing day the fear that the ‘confession’ Snufkin had to tell Moomin wasn’t one of love, but...of a wish to leave and never see him again.

Could Snufkin’s absence be this confession of hatred?

Would he really never see Snufkin again….?

His heart ached at the possibilities and he could no longer muster the will to do anything but lay in his bed and cry.  


* * *

_However, he was curious to see what had everyone so excited downstairs._

* * *

  
Snufkin and Joxter had made a promise. Snufkin spat in his hand and forced The Joxter to take it. It was absolutely disgusting and They both agreed to never do that again, but the promise that handshake sealed was something more serious than either of them could fully understand.

“Don’t tell anyone of who I really am.” Snufkin stated once they’ve reached the edge of Moomin Valley

“What?!” The Joxter exclaimed, slightly horrified. “But you have all those people expecting your return!”

Snufkin swallowed, wiping at what he later swore was sweat in his eye. “I know, but....i’d much rather them think i’m still out there on a happy adventure, than to have them horrified by what might have happened to me on it.”

The Joxter paused, a deep frown setting in his features.

Snufkin gently grabbed his arm as his voice broke. _“Please…”_

The Joxter’s heart broke.  

“I promise…”  


* * *

_For the first time in years, Snufkin entered the valley without a new spring tune._

* * *

  
 “Moomin!!!” Cried The Joxter, wrapping his dear old friend in a bone crushing hug. “Oh it's been an age and a half since i’ve seen you!”

Moominpappa laughed heartily, returning the hug with the same or if not an even stronger strength.

“Oh Joxter!” Moominpapa cried between his laughter. “Don’t you know, it's Moominpapa now!”

The Joxter pulled back, a sly grin etched on his face. “Oh I know that, my dear friend! I just wished to address you one last time as I always have, that's all.”

Moominpapa smiled back at his dear friend. It had really been far too long since he’d seen him last, you know. Almost seventeen years!

“Now Joxter,” he says with a slightly more serious tone. “I know you aren’t the type to visit somewhere you’ve already been, barring of course your sweet Mymble. So what's the matter, My dear friend? What brings you here…?”

Moominmaiden- sorry, _Mamma_ , speaks up. Asking him. “Oh yes, whatever is the matter?” and his face goes pale with the weight of an uncomfortable secret.

“Well….” He says, unsure of how to explain it, when Snufkin, now completely invisible without his familiar hat or cloak makes himself known.

He taps the back of Moominmamma’s chair and with the smallest voice says.

“He thought that maybe....you could be some help to me.”  


* * *

_And the love in Moominmamma’s eyes breaks his heart as she state, very plainly._

 

_“Why of course we can help!”_

* * *

  
 “But what's his _name?!_ ” demanded Little My with a sour expression on her face, though you could never really quite tell if she actually did feel sour, or if she just cared so much, that her concern seemed bitter and false.

The Joxter hummed into the cup of coffee Moominmamma had kindly granted him. “Well, I believe that should be something he should tell you himself, now is it?”

Little My didn’t like this answer, but with Moominmamma glaring daggers across the table, she knew she couldn't press it further.

Still, something about this mysterious invisible boy rang strange to her. The way he sat, the way he grasped his own cup of coffee in his hands. The way he barely ever talked in his quiet, raspy voice…

It was suspicious, and Little My would definitely get to the bottom of this.

However, before anyone could say anything else, Moomintroll poked his head out the door and the invisible boy spilled his drink in shock. However, she couldn’t blame him for it! He looked absolutely terrible!

Moomin held deep purple bags under his dull blue eyes. He had barely been eating so he was all thin and sharp when he was supposed to be all soft and round. It was gross and distressing, especially the atmosphere of lonely depression he carried wherever he went. It was horrible and she absolutely couldn't stand it!

And by the way the invisible boy had reacted to it…

 

_Wait-_

 

Oh god, could it be that....?  


* * *

  _Little My was the farthest thing from a religious person, but she in that instance prays to every god she knows that her theory proves false._

_It doesn't. So instead, she prays for revenge._

* * *

  
Snufkin wished he could set up in his tent. He wished he could stay by the warmth of his fire, watching the moon rise from behind Moominhouse and to sleep under the stars. But his tent proved far too recognizable to risk setting up, especially in his usual spot with his usual fire...especially when his dear Moomin looked this despondent.

As he sat in the guest room window, he felt his stomach twist.

He regretted not saying anything. He regretted making the Joxter agree not to tell, and he especially regretted how horrible he made Moomin feel.

But...What would be worse…? Moomin‘s depression in thinking that Snufkin broke his promise to return on the first of Spring, and that instead he's still out there happily adventuring. Or...the look of horror that would cross his expression once he realizes Just how badly his adventure had really treated him.

He hated the look of pity Moomin had given him when they met earlier today and he resolved himself to stay silent about who he was.

If only for a little longer.

However, it seemed like not everyone was willing to agree to that.

Little My threw a shirt at him, it stayed on his head and gave a rather humorous image of a ghost, whos last regret was that he forgot to finish his laundry.

“Who did this to you?” She demanded, with a furious venom in her voice.

Snufkin took the shirt off his face, gently folding it and setting it in his lap.

“So you’ve figured it out, I see.”

“Of course I figured it out!” She's furious, and if it were possible, fire would be spitting from her lips. “Now, who the HELL did this to you!”

He snaps “Don’t curse!” before throwing the shirt back at her, she catches it with perfect grace and lobs it back at his head. He catches it too and pitches it at the wall with a cry of frustration.

She goes silent for a few minutes, and he forces himself not to cry. Not in front of her. Especially not in front of her.

He takes a deep breath, preparing for the worst of what My had to offer, but instead…she simply crawls up to sit in his lap, gently leaning against him in a hug he didn’t have to reciprocate.

“Don’t tell Moomin.” he pleads. “Not yet…I can’t bear the thought of him seeing me like this…”

Another moment passed before she answers.

“You know he would never hate you for it, right?”

He responds.

“It's not hatred I fear.... It's the pity.”

She hums in response and they both end up falling asleep in the little windowsill.  


* * *

_Snufkin as he sleeps, prays for this all to be a dream._

* * *

  
Days pass and Snufkin adjusts to this new normal he’s been presented with. He eats alone in his room, takes the ‘cure’ Moominmamma prepared for him and then spends the rest of the  day exploring the valley either alone or with The Joxter or Little My. Never both at the same time.

It's almost nice, but it's also positively horrible.

He finds a letter one night addressed to him written by Moomin. It was clearly not meant for him to ever see, but reading the letter makes him cry in such an ugly way he steals away in Moominpapa’s study and prepares his own.

Luckily, unlike this ‘Ninny’ he's been told of, his writing is visible and he pens a letter meant for and only for his dear sweet Moomintroll.

 

 

 

 

> _Moomin_
> 
>  
> 
> _My dear Moomintroll, I know i’ve been gone from you and the valley for far too long, and i’m terribly terribly sorry for it. It's just that...Something happened to me this year. Something awful, and I couldn’t stand the thought of you looking at me with the expression I know for a fact you’d wear. I’m not ready to return yet, dear Moomin. I need just a little more time to myself...Please Moomin. Allow me just a bit longer to return, I desperately want to. In fact, there's nothing more i’d like to see than your soft smile…._
> 
>  
> 
> _I miss you, Moomin. I’m sorry._
> 
>  
> 
> _I promise you that i’m much closer than you think._
> 
>  
> 
> _-Snufkin_
> 
>  
> 
>  

* * *

_He slips the letter in the mailbox late into the night, and he relishes in Moomin’s relief as he reads it the next day._

* * *

  
Snufkins alive.

 

Snufkin is alive!!!

 

Snufkin is alive and he doesn’t hate him! In fact he wrote him a letter stating that he wanted nothing more than to see him? To see his smile?

Oh, Moomin couldn’t handle himself!

But still… This horrible ‘something’ that kept Snufkin from keeping his promise was deeply concerning. He worried for Snufkin’s safety, for his happiness. For anything that could help him fight the monster that hurt him so.

He had half a mind to pack his bags and set out on his own adventure to rescue his dear friend. But he know that Snufkin wouldn’t like that at all. In fact, he stated it explicitly in his letter that he’d hate for Moomin to look at him with the worry he held oh so tight in his heart. So, instead he focused on himself and the things around him.

Moomin started eating again, started socializing again and started going on adventures with his friends again.

He finally introduced himself to the Joxter and the invisible guest he had brought along, laughing to himself when the Joxter joked his name was a spell that Moomin would have to guess if he wished to win the boy’s heart.

He laughs harder when the invisible boy kicked him out of his chair, and for a brief moment he sees the boy’s shoes return to visibility.  


* * *

_And for some reason, he can't shake the thought that they were familiar…_

* * *

  
 Moomin had taken to accompanying the invisible boy in his walks around Moominvalley. He never talked much when they were together, but Moomin didn’t mind too terribly much. Years with his dear, and yes he means dear, Snufkin has taught him the value of a quiet outing. And if the atmosphere ever did get too silent, the boy actively encouraged Moomin to talk about the things he wished to talk about.

So that's what he did. He talked about Snufkin and the adventures he’d gone on with him. He talked about his other friends, about how funny and wonderful they could be!

He talked about Snorkmaiden, about how he broke up with her after years and years of courtship, and about how he desperately missed his dear dear Snufkin, and couldn't wait for what Snufkin would confess to him once he returned, and for what he would confess in return-  


* * *

_And perhaps, if he stopped talking just for a moment… He might’ve noticed tears falling from seemingly nowhere._

* * *

  
 Moominmamma wasn’t an idiot. She knew from the first time the invisible boy spoke, that that was Snufkin. Standing there, shivering from whatever horrible thing happened to make him this way. So the first time she had managed to be alone with the Joxter, she trapped them both behind a locked door and said with a nigh bloodthirsty tone in her voice.

“Joxter. I raised that boy. I know full well who he is, So I must ask you. What. Happened?”

The Joker's eyes widened at the near malice emanating from Moominmamma’s voice, in fact had she been holding something like a knife, his life would have likely flashed before his eyes.

It was unnerving. Frightening even.

But he made a promise and The Joxter _never_ broke his promises so he said “I promised him I wouldn’t tell who he was or what happened to him. If you think that he might be someone you know, that's on you. But I shook his spit coated hand and promised to keep his trauma and Identity as my closest secret until he was ready to reveal them himself.”  

A Moment passes.

“But I guarantee you that the moment he fell asleep, I made those responsible for his current state _pay.”_

Moominmamma sighed, seemingly satisfied as her anger left her body. She unlocked the door that was meant to keep out any Prying My’s and said to the Joxter. “Thank you…” before she left to start a batch of medicine for Snufkin.  


* * *

  _She hoped that soon he’d be able to face her._

* * *

  
About a week and a half passed before Snufkin felt brave enough to speak to Moominmamma about his situation, and by the look in her eye he knew his secret failed, and that she knew who he was from the moment he first spoke.

Alone in the kitchen at three am, he tells her everything as they both bawl their eyes out.

At the end of it, hes regained his feet and his hands, and she gifts him clothing made especially for him, aged just long enough for him to feel comfortable taking it.

All that's left now is his head and his tail.

He made a bad joke about flipping a coin to see which one appears first and Moominmamma snorts a hideous laugh and he feels incredibly proud of himself.

However, the moment doesn't stay as is for long. Time passed and it's now four am. Moominmamma looks at him with a silent seriousness in her expression.

“You can’t keep hiding yourself forever, you know.”

He sighs, and takes a long sip of his coffee.

“I know....But just a few days longer Moominmamma? May I have at least that much?”

She takes a sip of her own.

“Of course, my dear…”

 

* * *

_Before he goes back to bed, he ties a small bow on his invisible tail._

* * *

  
Joxter once seeing his now mostly visible traveling companion shouted in glee as he ruffles the invisible hair on his head, laughing as Snufkin’s claws came out to defend himself.

Moominmamma scolded the two of them shortly after for disrupting breakfast, but couldn’t help smiling anyway as Snufkin started to act more and more like himself.

Breakfast was rather nice that day. Little My hummed a few old Lullabies her mother used to sing her, Moominpapa and Joxter teamed up to tell an incredibly _scandalous_ story about a trip upon a floating isle and the beautiful mermaids and fairies who inhabited it. Of course, though! None were more beautiful than Moominmamma herself~

At the end of it all, Moomin reached over and Grabbed Snufkin’s hand. Of course, he still didn’t know the hand he held was Snufkin’s, but he did anyway and told him that he’d wanted to show him something!

 

* * *

_As they left the room together, everyone could see the bow in Snufkin’s tail._

* * *

  
As Moomin and the Invisible Boy left the room, Moominpappa set down the newspaper he’d been holding. He looked across the room. From Joxter, to Mamma, to even Little My. Once he's sure the two boys has left he speaks up.

“The boy….That _is_ Snufkin, correct?”

At this point there's no holding it back, so the Joxter nods, as does My and Mamma and Moominpapa finds himself having a small, sad laugh.

“Oh dear….I had such a terrible feeling that it might be him…” He looks at Joxter, dead serious. “Joxter.” He starts, again. “How long are you planning to stay?”

The Joxter thinks for a moment before responding. “I want to see his face. Shouldn’t be too much longer now.”

Moominpapa hums. “Yes….It shouldn’t be. When his face does become visible, Joxter… I have something to tell you. Something quite important. Remind me then?”

The Joxter crocks an eyebrow as a look of horror crosses Mamma’s face, that didn’t go unnoticed by either Joxter or Little My

“Well, that's awfully cryptic!” The Joxter laughs while shoveling the last pieces of his meal in his mouth. “But I suppose I will remind you, now that you’ve gotten me so curious!”

“Why does it have to wait!?” begged Little My with a mixture of curiosity and dread on her face as if she too has a feeling what's up. “Why can’t you tell us now!”

Moominpapa took a sip of his coffee. “Because I want to be sure the thing I tell him is true, that's all…”

Moominmamma stood up, silently gathering the empty plates to carry to the kitchen. Moominpapa didn’t stop to ask her what might be wrong, for she well knew what he wanted to say to his dear friend.

 

 

Oh, he hoped he wasn’t wrong about this....

 

* * *

_Later, when nobody’s watching, he takes out an old photograph and smiles sadly._

* * *

  
Snufkin chokes on his tongue as Moomin’s grip refuses to lessen the whole way to their destination.

 

He can’t do this.

 

Oh god, he really cannot do this.

 

His tail is flicking wildly, and he feels way too exposed with it out in the open. He feels scared and nervous and-

But then Moomin turns and smiles at him. Saying something like “only a little bit farther now!” But Snufkin didn’t hear him if he did, as the moment he made contact with those lovely eyes which held the entire sky in their blue, he felt so incredibly sick.

Moominmamma promised him a few more days but-

He couldn’t keep this to himself anymore. He felt horrible for leading Moomin on like this, for letting Moomin think he never came, for wasting almost an entire month of spring wallowing in his own self hatred. He hated himself for this. He hated himself for a lot of things, but especially this.

He tries to free his hand, but it only causes Moomin to hold on tighter. “Not yet!” he says with a certain tone of seriousness that makes Snufkin desperately want to run away.

But he doesn't run.

Hes much too tired of running.  


* * *

_So instead, he stands and decides to listen to Moomin speak._

* * *

  
Moomin didn’t know how he was going to say this, but he knew that he desperately needed to. Right here. Right now. He had a secret inside of him, a secret so wonderful and terrible that if he kept it a secret any longer, he was going to burst!

But Moomin also had a theory, a theory so wild and improbable, it was likely the only truth. So, wanting to spill his secret and test his theory, he grabbed his invisible friend and he booked it to the middle of the forest, looking specifically for the patch of flowers he and Snufkin had always liked to sit in, weaving crowns out of flowers for the other to wear.

He felt the figure behind him stiffen up and he grinned as if this were more proof his theory was correct.

“Snufkin sent me a letter you know…” he speaks softly, finally letting go of his hand. “He sent me a letter as if he could sense just how sad I was without him. He sent me a letter saying that even though he couldn’t return yet, he was still much closer than I thought.”

Moomin sits down in the middle of the field, he picks daisies and clover and carefully weaves them into a crown as he speaks.

He knows for a fact his friend is frozen still.

“He said he was hurt and needed some time to himself.” He can't get a stem through one of the gaps, so he instead tucks the flower behind his ear and tries again with a different one. “And I know that Snufkin needs time to himself. I know that he's wary around people and that noisy crowds of people frighten him to no end…”

He finds a four leaf clover and makes a wish on it before snaking it too into the crown.

“But I wish he’d know that i’d never look down on him for needing help… I wish… He could find it in himself to accept my help. Hes helped me, so many times with so many things.”  Moomin feels tears building in his eyes, and he doesn’t find it in himself to stop them from falling.

“He's shown me so much love over the years. So much care and compassion. Every time I need him, he's right there… Every time I want him, he's not… because he has his own life and worries to tend to, But he's still always with me, and I with him.”

He hears something move behind him, but he just keeps speaking and continues weaving.

“I just wish… He’d show himself. Right here… Right now… So I could show him myself just how much he really means to me.”

He feels something warm against his back.

He feels a wetness in his fur.

 

“I wish I could show him… Just how much I love him.”  


* * *

_He hears his friend sob and he knows Snufkin forgives him for this._

* * *

  
 Snufkin cried. He cried and he cried harder than he's ever cried before into his dear Moomin’s back. His hands shook uncontrollably as he grips his fur tightly and he feels positively sick as he screams his sorrows into Moomin’s fur. But when all is said and done. Hes revealed himself, and he feels a thousand times lighter because of it.

They stay there, like that for a very long time. Snufkin crying and Moomin allowing himself to be cried on. But eventually even the most emotional of breakdowns needs to take a break for air.

So Snufkin pulls back, gasping for breath and Moomin takes the opportunity to turn around and gently cups his face in his hands.

 

Moomin’s voice finally breaks.

 

“I missed you.”

 

Snufkin’s, already broken, replies

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Moomin presses their foreheads together, and Snufkin realizes he's finally completely visible through the reflection of Moomin’s eyes. Snufkin flinches. He must look horrible.

He goes to pull away but Moomin refuses him that right.

“I know you need your space.” Moomin says, staring him dead in the eye. “I know you’ve been hurt in the past. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but please know that i’m _here_ for you.”

Their noses are almost touching.

“I know that you think you’re unworthy of love, Snufkin.” Moomin rubs small circles against his flushed cheeks. “But you’re not.”

Moomin finally pulls back, hands still on Snufkin’s face, a trail of silent tears streaming down Moomin’s own.

“You’re wonderful, Snufkin. You’re charming and talented, creative, smart in a million different ways!” his voice grows stronger. “I think of you almost every night, I want to be with you every single day! You’re my best friend. You’re the love of my life, _and by the Groke, Snufkin! You’re worthy of love!_ ”

At this point Moomin can’t help but bawl. He can’t help the tears overflowing from his eyes, blinding his vision and leaving him mute and neither can he.

Snufkin doesn't know what to do. So Snufkin does the only thing he can think of doing. The only thing he’s been wanting to do for the last seven years. He takes Moomin’s face into his hands, and he shoves his lips against his snout in the messiest, most disgusting excuse for a kiss he’s ever seen.

 

A kiss which Moomin, happily reciprocated.  


* * *

_And he swears, behind all of these tears. Hes happy._

* * *

  
Moominmamma is the one to see them return, Moomin carrying Snufkin in his arms like a bride. A crown of flowers and clover sat upon his now visible head and a gentle warmth filled her heart at the sight.

Little My; however, cackled maniacally.

“Well it's about TIME!” she called to them as only a teasing sister would. “It's only been about SEVEN YEARS.”

Moomin called back with a fuming red face. “Shut up, My! You were only here for like two of them!”

“No…” Snufkin admits in a whisper, stars still in his eyes. “We’ve been dancing around each other for far too long.”

Moomin knew that, oh. He desperately knew that, but still, she had no right to call them out like that! Especially when the tears were still fresh in their eyes.

Moominpapa comes out shortly after and smiles when he sees the happy couple, making an offhand comment about how romantic this would be for his memories.

Snufkin is standing by the time they reach the porch, and The Joxter slinks out of the house, clearly just woken from a nap as he truly sees Snufkin for the very first time.

And as he does, the world around him goes cold.  


* * *

_“Moominpapa,” he starts. “What exactly was it you wished to tell me?”_

* * *

  
Moominpapa then spun a story about the Mymble, how she just under seventeen years ago knocked on their door, presenting a child she called the Joxter’s own.

Nobody would have believed him, really. He did tend to over exaggerate things; but this time Moominmamma spun the same tale. Agreeing with every word, and at the very end… showing a picture of a much smaller Snufkin, and a Moomin to match, hugging each other tight as they sat in the Mymble’s lap.

Snufkin, who had really thought he’d be all cried out for the next century, apparently wasn’t. He turned himself to the Joxter as the Joxter turned to him.

“Papa?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

“Oh, my darling child….come here” responded the Joxter. Before wrapping Snufkin up in the warmest and tightest hug he had ever known.

Snufkin speaks with glee from inside the hug. “I’ve cried so much today, you think I could cry no more. But here I am, crying still into your arms!”  Laughter bubbles in his chest. “Oh, how silly we’ve both been! Oh how wonderful, this is!”

They stay there for a few moments, crying before Snufkin’s eyes widen and he asks with a childlike glee. “If i’m your son, does that grant me a mother as well? Is your dear Mymble really my mother? Please tell me so!”

But with this question, all hell broke loose and its complete chaos for almost an hour as The Joxter cries and clings to his own sobbing son as he threatens to maim the woman he called the love of his life for abandoning his precious, beautiful, perfect son that she never even bothered to _tell_ him about before suddenly-

 

 _“It was me!”_ My shouts, with an unsteady stomach and tears in her eyes. “Please, don’t blame Mom. It was completely my fault!”

 

The tears are falling now and she makes no move to hide them, instead she continues.

“She was never the same after she lost him.”  she whispers. “And….I think she never told you about him because she was sure he’d be dead…”

Everyone stares in silent horror, and after a bit Snufkin breaks the silence.  


* * *

_“Little My, What do you mean that you’re the one responsible for my abandonment…?”_

* * *

  
Little My has a memory she doesn't really like.

 

It was a memory she had long been convinced was a dream.

 

But it wasn’t.

 

God, it wasn’t.

 

She was five, maybe six when this happened. Her mother, Mymble had her and all of her siblings outside, playing around  and burning away their restless energy. Everyone was running and jumping and screaming and laughing. All except for the strange one resting in her Mother’s basket.

She can’t remember their name...Perhaps they were even too young to be named a name, as a name was an incredibly powerful thing, you know.

But in all the commotion and all the Chaos, Her big sister Mymble leaves to fetch more lemonade as her mother leaves to pour the rest of theirs on a misbehaving child’s head.

My thinks it humorous to slip the basket into the river. Maybe it was a joke. Maybe she genuinely thought the baby would enjoy it. Maybe she was tired of all the senseless noise and wanted to nip another screaming voice in the bud.

 

She doesn't remember why she did it. She only remembers that she did, and her mother had never been the same since.  


* * *

_She can’t take everyone’s horrified looks, so instead, she leaves to make things right._

* * *

  
Mother Mymble was an incredibly busy woman. Each morning she woke before all of her children to prepare forty-eight bowls of beans and forty-eight glasses of milk on the side for all her children. Now, she didn’t _need_ to prepare forty-eight as her daughter, Mymble had recently moved out into her own, and her littlest My had forcefully made herself a permanent resident of Moominhouse.

But it was still good to be prepared, especially now as the littlest Mymble in question slammed open the door, crying her eyes out.

“Now now, Little My.” She finds herself cooing as she kneels on the ground to catch her crying daughter. “What's wrong? Did something happen over at Moominhouse that upset you? It's alright. You can tell me _anything.”_

And with that ‘anything’ hanging in the air, Little My just cried harder and harder, screaming her pain and frustration and misery deep into her mother’s apron.

But eventually, Little My had to pull back and Mother Mymble had to ask once again what was the matter, because at this point several of her youngests had come down to spy on the excitement.

So Little my just settles for “I’m sorry, Mama. It's all my fault. Everything was always my fault.”

Mother Mymble tries to ask her what exactly she's at _fault_ for, but before she can Little My continues. “But I can make it better, Mama! I promise you I can! Everything will be alright now!”

“Darling My,” Mymble asks. “What on earth has gotten into you? What is this thing you wish to make better? Why will everything be alright?”

“Because!!” My’s voice breaks. “I found missing forty- _nine!”  
_

* * *

_Oh._

 

_Oh dear._

 

_Mother Mymble didn’t really expect to cry this early in the morning._

 

_But now that she started, she absolutely could not stop._

* * *

 

Mymble reached the valley in less than a weeks time. She had left most of her children alone with a trusted friend, as her dear and precious My had told her that her precious, precious _Snufkin_ would be put off by all their noise.

 

She didn’t like leaving her children behind. In fact, she can’t remember the last time she's gone anywhere without them.

 

* * *

_But if this Snufkin is her Snufkin. Her precious, darling Snufkin...It would be all worth it making a trip on her own._

* * *

  
Snufkin lay on the bridge in front of Moominhouse, soaking up the sun as he lazily played various melodies on his harmonica. His dear Moomin, sat beside him, holding his fishing rod steady in the water.

The melodies he played spoke of a thousand confessions, and each time Moomin met his eyes he found himself blinking lazily back, something The Joxter, _His father,_ called a Mumrik kiss.

There were many ways to kiss a Moomin he found, and they had experimented with them all!

They could touch their noses gently together for what was known as the traditional Moomin kiss. He could plant his lips on the tip of Moomin’s Snout for something that worked slightly better for how each of them were built. There were Mumrik kisses and Butterfly kisses, and a special type of kiss which he only liked to perform behind a closed door or in the secluded wood, where they tilted their heads and matched their lips in something Snufkin could only describe as _magical._

Oh, how he loved each and every way he could kiss his dear Moomindove _._ If he didn’t need to eat or sleep, he’d gladly spend each and every day doing nothing but that.

He sighed in contentment as Moomin gasped in surprise. It seems he had hooked a fish! Snufkin pushed himself up, reading himself to land the pesky thing. They pulled and they pulled and with a mighty shout they had landed-- Little My!?

Moomin shouted “Hey!”  as My cackled in her own way, running back to the forest path.

He mumbled something harsh as she did, earning a light scolding from Snufkin. He no longer blamed My for his abandonment. She was only young child with vague memories. How was she to know, everything went so wrong. Though, after she had ran off crying, she was missing quite a few days and nobody quite knew where she ran off to.

 

It was honestly quite worrying.

 

But still, he had to prepare himself for a trip to the-

Moomin gasped. However this time, it wasn’t at a fish. No. This gasp was directed for a certain _someone_ emerging from the forest path.

The person, that with an absolute certainty, Snufkin knew as his _“Mamma?”_

Mother Mymble, shivered. She dropped the bags she carried on the ground, not caring if some of the contents went rolling.

She took a few steps forwards, her voice barely managing to choke out _“Oh, My dear, sweet Snufkin…”_ before she found herself tackled by her crying _son._  

“Mamma!!!” He cried, unintelligibly. _“MAMMA!!!!”_

They fell to the ground together. Crying and shaking and sobbing together. Snufkin’s Shout had managed to bring out all of Moominhouse with it, Moominmama and Moominpapa who watched the happy reuninion from the front porch, to Joxter, who seemed to have forgotten entirely about his desire to leave the valley, launched himself out of the second story window and directly into the pile of familiar love.  


* * *

_And for a moment, All was Well._

* * *

  
The first chance he got, Snufkin made it clear to Little My that he held no resentment for her. That he felt it would be unfair to judge a child so young on something they didn’t understand the full effects of, and that he was glad to have a sister who was as ready to throw down with any park keeper as he.

She in response, _definitely_ didn’t cry, and any occasional sniffling coming from her was just an illness she likely got swimming in the late spring air.

Mother Mymble and The Joxter. His _Mother and Father,_ refused to leave his side from the moment the three reunited. A thousand apologies were exchanged between them, and they came to an agreement that Snufkin was much too much like his father to ever be comfortable living with his mother’s other children.

Though, he promised to make even the most occasional visit. Which Mother Mymble seemed plenty fine with, and with that they sat in peace, discussing the different adventures they had gone on.

It was peaceful and nice, almost… like the home he never knew. Almost…  like the home he could know now.

And while he sat there on the porch of Moominhouse, his Father embracing his left, his Mother, his right and Moomin happily resting between his knees. Snufkin lifted his harmonica to his lips and played his new, not quite spring, tune with a theme he thought he’d never be able to know.

 

He played for family.

 

_His Family._

 

End

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please review this fic I sold my soul for it uw0esfiodjk


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